A man's figure, dressed in white linen,
with one arm quite invisible under the coat, stood halting for a
moment in the doorway, then moved out and slowly approached the table
at which the other sat.
The lamplight, gleaming upwards, revealed a yellow face of many
wrinkles, and curious, glancing eyes that shone like fireflies in the
gloom.
He stopped beside the man who worked. "All right," he said. "Finish
what you are doing."
In the silence that followed he seemed to watch the hand that moved
over the paper with an absorbing interest. The instant it rested he
spoke.
"Done?"
The man in the chair stretched out his arms with a long gesture of
weariness; then abruptly leapt to his feet.
"What am I thinking of, keeping you standing here? Sit down, Nick!
Yes, I've done for the present. What a restless beggar you are! Why
couldn't you lie still for a spell?"
Nick grimaced. "It's an accomplishment I have never been able to
acquire. Besides, there's no occasion for it now. If I were going to
die, it would be a different thing, and even then I think I'd
rather die standing. How are you getting on, my son? What mean these
hieroglyphics?"
He dropped into the empty chair and pored over the paper.
"Oh, you wouldn't understand if I told you," the other answered.
"You're not an engineer.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205